


blindfold

by eustassya



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: 10 years of SteveTony, Kidnapping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 13:49:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10900650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustassya/pseuds/eustassya
Summary: Sometimes the people you think are above this aren't. At all.





	blindfold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [navaan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/gifts).



> Prompt from the 10yearsofstevetony post: Steve kidnaps Tony because it's the only way to have him to himself.
> 
> Give me a crappy star, guys! I gave up trying to finish this, so it's horrifically short. Perhaps in the future I'll finish it with another chapter, or something.
> 
> Many apologies to navaan, whom I have failed terribly. I'm sorry... I'll find some way to make this right.

It’s warm when he fades into consciousness again, his head surprisingly clear. That’s a first. Usually, when he gets kidnapped, he’s thrown into a cold cell, either chained to the wall or lying on the concrete floor, stale air seeping out of the vents. Instead, he seems to be lying unrestrained on a soft bed, body covered with a fluffy duvet, black silk blindfold tied over his eyes. The blindfold isn’t too tight, but it’s not loose enough to dislodge, even with vigorous head-shaking and an attempt at pulling it off his head, and the knot is too intricate to untie. He wonders what his kidnapper wants, to warrant this kind of treatment.

 

Of course he knows he’s been kidnapped. Again. It’s not as if he’s a stranger to it. But this time, he doesn’t have a clue who it could be. He’d been abducted while asleep in his hotel room after a Resilient shareholders meeting in Seattle. None of his mortal enemies (the fact that he has any is a red light in and of itself, but Tony doesn’t like to think about that) have been particularly active lately. The only people likely to kidnap him are terrorists, underhanded business rivals, and supervillains. Tony doubts Doom would have a good reason to kidnap him - they’d had a good chat just a few days ago. And by ‘good chat’, he means battle and thwarting of nefarious, evil schemes.

 

Since no one has shown up to either threaten or free him yet, Tony entertains himself with a list of possible kidnap suspects. Ty and Sunset’s businesses have been doing pretty well lately, so there should be no reason for them to attempt another kidnap, and even if it were either of them, they wouldn’t treat him so well. Sunset might - but her definition of ‘treating well’ includes seduction, and he isn’t particularly easy to seduce these days. Believe him - she’s tried. Justin Hammer could never have the capacity to set up a kidnapping, no matter how competent he thinks himself. And pretty much the rest of his villains are either dead or Missing In Action.

 

Thinking about people who are MIA makes his thoughts drift to Steve. As in Steve Rogers, Captain America. Captain America, who’s been missing for a few months now. It’s something Tony should have foreseen. And not just because they’re best friends. The thing is, Steve had asked him out a few weeks before he’d disappeared, and Tony had said no.

 

It’s not that Tony isn’t attracted to Steve - who wouldn’t want to date  _ Captain America _ ? - but Tony knows himself; knows how easily he could fuck this up, how easily he could ruin their friendship forever. Steve is everything he’s ever wanted, in a friend, in a lover, as a person. But he’s not going to let himself be selfish, not when he knows Steve can definitely do better. He’s not going to be the one to drag Steve down - never again. There’ve been enough close calls already, Steve risking his life for Tony, even though Tony’s the one encased in metal armor. Very  sturdy metal armor, at that.

 

His thoughts are interrupted when he hears the twist and click of a door being unlocked in a far corner of his cell. (As comfortable as it is, it’s not a room. Rooms are places Tony can leave.) At least, he thinks, someone’s come to check up on him. “Hey!” he calls out into the darkness, forcing himself not to sit up. “If you’re here to rescue me, I’m on the bed!” A dry chuckle is his only reply, before a warm, gentle hand smooths back the locks of hair curling over his forehead, another coming to rest lightly against his cheek. Tony flinches away from the touch, head pressing backwards into the soft pillows, and the hands pull away quickly, like they’ve been burned. Huh.

 

The person’s hands are large, and strong - he can feel it in the coiled tenseness of the muscle, whoever this is, they are taking care to be gentle with him. But why? “Who are you?” His voice comes out hushed, whispered, like a secret. “What do you want from me?” There is no response, only the sound of shuffling, the drag of a chair against a wooden floor. Tony is suddenly acutely aware of the image he must present - sleep-mussed and confused, a trail of dried drool trailing down the side of his mouth. And then the person says, “I’m going to clean your face with a washcloth. Don’t move.”

 

His voice - it must be a he, the baritone is obvious - comes out staticky, like he’s wearing a voice modulator, or talking through a mask. So he’s hiding his identity. Perhaps it’s a new villain - but why would a villain be so unexplainably gentle? One of the hands from before cups the back of his neck, squeezing reassuringly, but Tony doesn’t relax. A warm, wet cloth brushes over his face. The blindfold is taken off, but the cloth covers his eyes immediately, and he catches a flash of pale hair, but he still can’t make out who his kidnapper is. The blindfold is replaced once the cloth is removed. Tony sighs.

 

“Why are you doing this?” he asks, frustrated with the man’s silent gentleness. “Why am I here?” Then he’s reaching up to tug the blindfold off, anger and confusion forming fear that’s sour on his tongue. His blindly scrabbling, shaking hands are stopped halfway by a tight, almost painful squeeze, and a strong grip on his wrists. Tony panics.

 

He lashes out.

 

His wrists are jerked out of the man’s hands; his left foot collides clumsily but forcefully against a muscled chest, and over the rush of blood pounding in his ears, he hears a pained ‘oof’. His breathing is coming in fast, short gasps, he’s breaking out in cold sweat, he can feel his heart, under the RT, trying to jump out of his chest. And then the panic has him paralysed - he’s sitting up, frozen,  on the bed, chest heaving, his hands gripping at the blindfold but not pulling it off. Tony can’t seem to move. Now, he thinks, not without a touch of self-deprecation, he’s going to die. Or get tortured, or punished, or whatever his kidnapper feels fit to do with him. Good job at trying to gain information and planning an escape, Tony. Fantastic fucking job.

 

There is no sound for a moment. Just heavy, suffocating silence, in which his thoughts spin giddily. He’s a goner, for sure. By the time his friends find him he’d have bled out in a ditch. Then, a grunt and a sigh. Footsteps that sound almost forced, as if the person is making them for no reason other than to let Tony know he’s approaching. Jesus. Who  _ is _ his kidnapper, really? Is this all some elaborate plan to… to fuck with his mind? He says it out loud.

 

What he gets, instead of confirmation or denial, is a chuckle. “Oh, Tony,” the voice murmurs, and a large, warm hand cups the side of his face, thumb stroking circles into his cheekbone. Involuntarily, he stiffens. There’s an undercurrent of fondness in his kidnapper’s tone, a steady weight to it that sounds familiar, but how could- It couldn’t possibly- Why would it be-

  
“...Steve?”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments are much loved and needed! You can find me on tumblr as [eustassya](https://eustassya.tumblr.com) .


End file.
